


a night of luxury

by meowrails



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Actually There's a Little Plot, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, M/M, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, TAZ Amnesty, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 19:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17189075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowrails/pseuds/meowrails
Summary: After a very successful robbery, Ned and Boyd share a room at an expensive hotel.





	a night of luxury

**Author's Note:**

> i love writing fanfics for a ship where one of the characters has only had about 4 minutes total in the podcast.
> 
> anyway, crossing my fingers this is still somehow in character by the time taz comes back. for now, enjoy some self indulgent smut.
> 
> for my boyd and ned headcanons, you can find them[ here](http://albaaca.tumblr.com/post/181223482648/so-uh-boyd-and-ned-had-a-hell-of-a-meet-cute),[ here](http://albaaca.tumblr.com/post/181113826926/finally-trying-to-catch-up-with-taz-amnesty), and[ here](http://albaaca.tumblr.com/post/181413900213/hard-to-have-a-nice-time-alone-with-ur-partner-in).

Most heists Boyd and him pulled were just enough to scrape by for a few weeks. A credit card, some small jewelry, even copper wire when they were desperate and, hey, sometimes they got lucky and found some designer clothes they threw in the mix to resell for a good price, or to wear themselves. There were rare catches, so far and few in between, where they struck gold, sometimes even literally. 

This time the pot of gold appeared to them in the form of a gorgeous Bertrand violin, perfectly kept and worth at least a good twenty thousand dollars. 

Ned had been the one to notice what it was when they sneaked inside the mansion. Boyd assumed it was just another instrument they could pawn for a couple of hundreds, but at the mark of the brand, and Ned's explanation, the duo almost started crying in unison. They ended up stealing nothing else  — save for a few earrings for Ned and a hat Boyd happened to like  — and got out without any sort of hitch. Ned almost felt sorry for the owner who would have to be apart from such a gorgeous and well-crafted item, but not bad enough to give a shit beyond the vacation Boyd and him were gonna have.

Boyd had to ask how the hell Ned knew about kinds and brands of violins. Ned, as always, told him not to worry about it.

They decided to spend it right where they were in sunny Los Angeles and found beach side hotel they’ve been dreaming about from their shitty motel room. A luxury hotel, one the two of them have gone before to meet up with people far more successful than them. Seedy deals, oblivious families, people looking for a discreet yet nice place to fuck. It was perfect for them. They posed as business partners this time. Boyd wanted them to be investors in a pool company since he likes swimming, but Ned eventually won, proudly announcing they were Los Angeles to make deals in antique army memorabilia. The concierge did not seem to care, but Boyd was impressed Ned somehow continues to pull off such odd lies.

At the sight of their room, Ned and Boyd immediately run towards the king sized mattress, kicking off their new shoes in the process. Boyd grins at the sight of Ned stroking the bed sheets in his new faux-fur coat that he bought in the middle of August. “This is the life. Isn't it, darling?” The brit asks, hands on his hips.

“Fifteen-hundred thread count bed sheets, a full sized jacuzzi as a bath, they got one of those new flat screen televisions in the bedroom and the living room. Boyd, my compatriot, my partner in crime, we deserve this.” Ned takes off his jacket and throws it aside, already set on enjoying the fine are conditioning.

Boyd looks over his new sunglasses and his grin turns into a smirk. “Boyd?” He shifts his usual Yorkshire accent to an exaggerated imitation of Ned’s accent. “My name’s Bobby Briggs and boy, I sure hope no one we talk to in this hotel watches Twin Peaks.”

Ned huffs, “It's a common name, Boyd! You're the one who went with it after my suggestion.”

“I didn't know the reference at the time, Mister  _ Ferdinand Hill _ .”

Ned brushes off the teasing and takes off Boyd's sunglasses, trying them on for himself. “You're jealous I keep getting all the cool names for myself.”

Boyd allows it and gets closer, wrapping an arm around Ned's waist. “They're only cool when you have more than two minutes to think about them. Remember when you tried Mr.  _ Takahara? _ ”

“I had an entire backstory for Takahara! I could have been adopted, you know. Not very nice assume.” Ned pouts.

“Not nice to mess up a fake insurance scam we had planned out for two weeks with your shitty name, either, innit?” Boyd very clearly wants Ned to sit on his lap, patting his thighs looking at him with raised eyebrows. Boyd isn’t exactly subtle, at least not around Ned. Thankfully, Ned has never seen the appeal in subtlety. “What am I  _ ever _ going to do with you, Edmund?”

“I have a few ideas that come to mind.” 

Boyd smiles, all the stress of the months past where they were sometimes pulling two to three stunts a week completely gone. Ned doesn't sit on his lap, but he does rest his legs over Boyd's thighs, smiling back. “Naughty, naughty. Are we in the mood for some celebrating, then?”

Ned gestures at the room they’re in, announcing loudly, “Look around us, my friend!  _ All _ of this is a celebration! We have the view of the beach right outside our window. We're have four days to spend in luxury, I intend to make each second until we leave a celebration.”

Still smiling, Boyd shakes his head and moves off the bed. He's already used to Ned’s little monologues. He looks over the room service menu and starts tapping the keys, the phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder while his free hand is unbuttoning his shirt. “Should I order champagne, then?” 

Ned leans back against the pillows, enjoying the feeling of his body sinking into softness. Far better than sleeping in the back of the Lincoln. “Yes. Oh! Do they have some of those chocolate covered strawberries? Get some of those.”

Boyd covers the receiver for a moment, “Oi, what are those lil’ octopuses called? The fried ones?”

“Calamari?”

The taller man snaps his fingers and order everything, adding a bottle of the scotch he knows Ned likes. At that, Boyd tosses his shirt behind him and crawls over the bed over Ned, saying nothing as he takes the sunglasses off Ned's face and sets them aside. “Looks like we have around twenty minutes to waste until our treats arrive.” 

Ned's gaze lowers from his partner's handsome face to his bare chest -- almost hairless and muscular to the point of annoyance, a total contrast to Ned's hairier and pudgier form. He runs his fingers over Boyd's abs, just now noticing that they haven't had time to really indulge in each other lately. “Why rush? We have the rest of the night to ourselves, and I intend to taking a break for a while in the bourgeois fantasy I've always wanted.”

Boyd rises to straddle his thighs, his hand sneaking under Ned's shirt. “Should I try to sound more posh, then? Maybe you'll finally be able to get me in a suit again.”

Ned perks up, eyes widening. “Please! Wasn't that such a nice night? We didn't get that diamond necklace but I won the sight of you out of those ungodly sweatpants and shorts.

Boyd wiggles his hips and rests his palms beside Ned's face. Ned feels a heat over his cheeks as he feels the gentle shift of Boyd’s clothed dick against his own. 

“I recall that night ending with you still getting a  _ hard  _ rock either way,” The brit says.

Ned holds Boyd by his waist. “You make it sound like I found a bag of meth instead of fellating you in a bathroom.” 

Boyd groans, “Do you  _ have  _ to call it ‘fellating’? Can’t you just say you were sucking me off?” 

“I will now, if you’d allow me.” Ned raises his eyebrows, feeling as coy and clever as ever as he actively watches Boyd’s face go from confusion to delight. 

He laughs, “Oh, Ned. Of course you can, sweetheart.” And then comes Ned’s favorite part. Boyd’s large hands go to quickly unbuckle his belt and toss it to the side, Ned raises his own to help him with his jeans, but the other man gently smacks them away. “No, no. Allow me. Just lie back and open your mouth, gorgeous.”

Ned licks his lips and does as told, watching as Boyd drops the rest of his clothes to the side and strokes his hardening cock right in front of Ned's face. Ned takes the opportunity to drag his tongue over the shaft and some Boyd's fingers, lowering his mouth to tease at his balls. 

“Eager, are we? You're such a fuckin’ slut sometimes, Ned.”  

Ned feels his ears grow hot at the word, but he plays it off and shrugs, face probably red despite his tan. “I know what I like.”

“Fuck yeah, you do.” Boyd grabs Ned's jaw and slides his cock between his lips. He gives him no time to adjust before he starts fucking his mouth, free hand on the bed frame to keep himself steady. It gives Ned perfect view of Boyd's face and chest, but he closes his eyes to enjoy the feeling of being used. Boyd groans, clearly trying to get off as quickly as possible before the food arrives, but Ned wasn't kidding when he said he was just fine taking his time. 

Boyd pulls away for a moment and allows Ned to suck him off properly, urgently pressing his cock against Ned's lips. “Go on, have a taste. You know what  _ I _ like.”

And does he. Ned has sucked cock more times than he could count and yet never tires of this. The heat, the act up pulling back the foreskin and watching him gasp, the fact Boyd has a very sensitive spot right beneath the head of his cock that makes him moan. He raises his body a bit and wraps his lips around the head of Boyd's cock, bobbing his head back and forth, his hand making up for the rest of the brit’s size. “Fuckin’ hell, Ned. That's it. Christ, I always forget how good you are at this. So fucking desperate for it all the time, aren't you?”

Ned opens his eyes and looks up, making eye contact but not answering. Boyd runs his fingers through Ned's hair, “Good boy. Go on, then. You got about fifteen minutes to get me off.”

Considering his track record, Ned can absolutely pull that off. He hollows his cheeks, sucking Boyd down as far as his throat will let him. He groans around Boyd's cock, humming to lessen his gag reflex as he feels the head touch the back of his throat. Boyd grabs the back of Ned's head to hold him there for just a moment before pulling back his cock, allowing Ned to breathe. A stripe of spit connects from his lips to Boyd's dick, Ned moans at the sight and discomfort in his own pants, knowing fully well Boyd is ignoring his cock at the moment. He knows he’ll take care of it later.

“That's it, babe. Keep goin’. Here, let me.” Boyd's hand soothes his hair, gently pushing his mouth back on his cock. Ned takes it once more, wondering how debauched he must look, and lets Boyd fuck his mouth again. 

Boyd holds him by the top of his head, large hands able to hold him steady with ease as he thrusts in a hurried pace, eyeing the clock-radio in the bed. “Five minutes, sweetheart,” he says through gritted teeth. Boyd’s hair falls over his eyes and Ned enjoys every stretch and flex of muscle as Boyd raises his arm to swipe it back. Ned moans around Boyd at the sight. God, he's gay.

“Yeah. Come on, Edmund. Fuck-” Boyd thrusts his cock deep into Ned's mouth, laughing at the sound of Ned gagging slightly. He cums down Ned's throat, watching him struggle to swallow, drops of cum ending up on his beard and cheek. 

Boyd lowers his body to kiss him, the smile not leaving his face. “Fuckin’ perfect, babe. Thank you.” 

Ned chuckles at the kisses Boyd leaves on his neck, “Might need that champagne to wash away the taste.”

Boyd smirks and lowers himself father, fingers on the edge of Ned's jean. He pulls them down and licks a stripe over Ned's bulge. “Your turn. Let’s me just-”

They're interrupted by the knock on the door. Both used to having to change quickly, Boyd puts on his jeans and shirt in a flash as Ned dresses himself, pretending he was watching television in the other room as the hotel employee walks in to serve their champagne and uncover their meal. Ned eyes Boyd, smiling a bit. 

Boyd makes sure to tip the man nicely and rest the  _ do not disturb  _ notice outside their door once he leaves. He throws away his shirt and pants once more, covering himself with a complimentary robe. He hands Ned a glass of champagne with a clink against his own.

“How’s your throat?” He asks, looking genuinely worried. Well, slightly. As worried a man can look while sounding full of himself.

Ned leans back and clears his throat before taking a bite out of a chocolate strawberry. “Well, you know me. Ned ‘Deepthroat’ Chicane.”

Boyd snorts and take some food for himself, eyeing Ned up and down as they eat. 

“Cheeky bastard.”

 

\---

 

After eating, Ned found himself in a similar position as before, with a coy looking Boyd looming over him, hands resting on either side of his head. Except this time, they were both completely nude, lights low and just enough to see each other's faces, lips tasting faintly of champagne and scotch. This time, they had all the time in the world.

Boyd presses kisses and leaves marks on the curve of his neck, right on the edge of where they could be either hidden or shown off. “Been a while since we've been able to just do this, hasn't it?”

Ned lets out of shaking breath, shifting his hips. “I missed this, Boyd.” He leans his head to the side, allowing Boyd more access to the rest of his neck. 

Boyd's hands shift from gripping his ass to holding him by the bottom of his thighs, keeping his legs apart. Boyd's lips rise from his collarbones to Ned's own, kissing him gently. So different from their usually desperate quickies they'll have after the high of a heist, in the back of the car or back at their shitty apartment, once even in one of the houses they were robbing. Slow, deliberate kisses feel just luxurious and rare as the room they are in. 

“I know, baby. I’ve got you.” Boyd says, dragging his cock over Ned’s, slowly but deliberately pushing hard against the other man. Ned spread his legs slightly, allowing Boyd to bring his attention back to Ned's chest and stomach, watching Ned's pink-tinged face shudder with every touch. “Gonna make you feel so good tonight, and tomorrow, and everyday after that, yeah?”

Ned nods and closes his eyes. “Y-Yeah...”

The head of Boyd's cock brushes against Ned's hole, teasing but not pushing in. 

He grabs at Boyd's shoulders and groans, “Jesus, Boyd...”

He doesn't have to open his eyes to know the grin his partner must have as he leans down to kiss the side of his parted lips. He grinds against him, with the flexible ease of someone who actually stretches every morning, unlike Ned. “You want it? Already got my cock in you once today and now you're already beggin’ for it again.”

“Boyd, as much as I appreciate the dirty talk, I would much prefer if you continued-” Ned takes a moment to catch his breath. “With your dick inside me.”

“Alright, alright, sweetheart.” Boyd takes his cock and pushes in, slowly, allowing Ned to get adjusted. This is Boyd's favorite part every single time. Ned always lets out a sudden, short cry, more sensitive than he likes to let on. He clenches and squirms around his cock, trying to get used to the size for a moment before nodding, letting Boyd know that he can move. He's seen the man start moaning with almost every thrust dozens of times and never tires of it. Ned never really stops being loud, always the center of attention. 

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Boyd asks, slightly out of breath and with no real bite to his words.

Ned groans, eyes still closed and focused on the sensation. “Not unless you make me.”

Boyd rests a kiss on his cheek, distracting him momentarily from the fact he just pushed completely into Ned. He's rewarded with a low, drawn-out moan. “Not tonight, Ned. We paid good money for the fuckin’ honeymoon suite. Wanna hear you.”

Ned obliges, Boyd keeps going. Hard and shallow thrusts that finally reach his prostate and Ned finds himself with the side of his face buried into his too-soft pillow, small whimpers at each rush of pleasure that rises up his spine, a slight bit of drool going from his beard to the fabric. Boyd fucks him like they're getting arrested tomorrow  — a possibility that brushes their minds every waking second of their day, each moment they spend together feels like one they have to make count. 

It's better than he deserves, but it's probably better than Boyd deserves too. Ned buries his face into his partners neck, feeling far too emotional and more far gone than he cares to admit. “Boyd...  _ damnit _ .”

Boyd growls and pulls his head back for a kiss. “You close, baby?”

Ned digs his fingernails into Boyd's shoulder blades, biting his tongue to stop him from saying something stupid. He nods feverishly instead and opens his eyes, seeing Boyd looking down at him, jaw clenched as he fucks him at a ragged pace. 

He feels a large hand settle at either side of his hips. Boyd rests his forehead over his own, closing his eyes and holding the side of Ned's face in his palm, a rare moment of intimacy. No jokes, no comments, no words. Boyd usually tries to stop himself from making any noise he deems embarrassing but a moan escapes his lips, making him smile at the sound.

Ned reaches down to stroke himself, the only friction he got on his cock was it pressing against Boyd's body. It's painfully hard and he’s desperate to cum. Boyd swipes away his hand. “Let me. Let me.” 

All he can do is lean back and watch and Boyd fucks him, touches him, does anything he wants with him. Ned takes it all, feeling his cock throb into Boyd's fist. He cums over his stomach, grabbing at Boyd's arm as he does so. 

“That's it, sweetheart. So fuckin’ good to see you like that. Fuck yeah,” Boyd says, breathless, still stroking and fucking him. Ned knows he won't stop until he's done. He loves this. Moments where he doesn't have to do anything but  _ take  _ it. 

He looks up at Boyd, eyes focused on the man's muscular body, and gives him a tired smile. Boyd stops, gritting his teeth but ends up finishing inside Ned with an breathless moan, “Fuckin’ wonderful. Thank you, Edmund.” 

Ned scrunches his face at his full name. Boyd chuckles at the familiar sight. “No problem,” He says. “I'm good at what I do.”

“You did nothing the entire time. I reckon this counts as an entire workout for me.” Boyd pulls out slowly, both of them groaning in unison at the loss. He takes out his condom, ties it closed, and throws it to the side. Neither of them bother to see whether or not it landed on the trash can. Or bin. Their vernacular continues to meld into one, among other things.

“Hey, I did... stuff.” Ned doesn't even bother lying for long. “Yeah, I didn't do anything. Just lied here and looked pretty. I deserve it! We wouldn't be in this hotel if it wasn't for me!”

“Hm, Ned ‘Pillow Princess’ Chicane?” Boyd teases.

Ned shuts him up with a kiss, a long one at that. They end up beside each other, Ned resting his head on one of Boyd's arms as Boyd uses his free hand to keep cupping his ass like it's a fucking safety blanket. 

“Hey,” Boyd interrupts the kiss, looking at him. He looks gentle, pulls his body closer. Even when they're against each other, he tries to keep himself at arm’s reach. It's hard to do so when they're like this, or when Boyd looks at him like that. 

Ned freezes, desperately hoping Boyd doesn’t say what he thinks he's going to say. “Yes?”

Something in his eyes must have made Boyd stop, reconsider his words. The look of uncertainty passes through his face as quick as it comes. In their line of work, in their lifestyle, it's too dangerous to be uncertain. Either you jump off the cliff, or you quickly turn on your heel and walk back in shame. 

That's why they work so well together. They can both be such cowards.

“Nothin’, just wanted to get a good look at you,” Boyd lies. 

Ned lets out a sigh and stares back at Boyd, resting his own hand on the man's arm, fingers tracing over tattoos.

“I hope we can do this for a very long time,” Boyd says, carefully. “Just you and me. Mosche and Chicane, or whatever name we have that day. I got your back, sweetheart, no matter what.”

The words are dangerously close, enough that Ned can already feel goosebumps on the back of his neck. He hopes Boyd mistakes his racing heart for arousal and not anxiety. It's a closeness he can't handle, he's never been able to. He wants to, deeply, but he doesn't have the words. Instead, Ned responds with a kiss and a chuckle. “Since when are you so sappy after sex? Boyd, you’re growing soft, my friend.”

“I mean it, Edmund.” Boyd looks serious. The forced smile leaves Ned's face. “It's just you and me against the world. Like the song. Right?”

Ned pauses, gathering his words, then holds Boyd's face in his hands. He could do so many things at this moment, feeling the soft skin of Boyd's hopeful look, flushed cheeks he can only barely see in the dim light. Ned chooses to do what he does best. The uncertain. 

“You and me, Boyd. And nothing’s gonna stand in our way.”

It's not a lie, Ned decides. He just doesn’t know what the truth could be.

Boyd believes him without a second thought and wraps him in his arms, his teeth playfully sinking into the curve of his neck, no doubt leaving a mark anyone could see. They return to normality, but Ned's heart doesn’t stop racing. 


End file.
